


hear the call of the west wind

by Hugabug



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hugabug/pseuds/Hugabug
Summary: Every morning, he wakes up with a promise.





	hear the call of the west wind

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Okk if you’re still taking prompts what do you think about reincarnation au or something for standrew?
> 
> I've been sitting on this for awhile and I'm not sure if I'm happy with it just yet, but I did like the flow of it, so I thought I'd put it up here.

When Adam speaks, the wind stops.

“You look familiar,” he says to Steven, on the day they first meet, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Have I seen you before?”

Steven laughs, nervously. “I don’t know,” he answers (never mind the itch at the back of his head, the feeling of weightlessness in his legs, that phantom image of a rolling city, slowly but surely disappearing beneath the clouds at his feet as the hands of a god lift him into the clear blue of the sky). “I think so? I’m not so sure, anymore.”

Adam smiles, and the wind picks up.

* * *

Steven doesn’t like it when people look at him.

He dreams of a time when that was all people did. Stare at him, jaws on the floor, eyes wide, admiration written across their faces. But that was all there was to them. None of them loved him. None of them cared. He was a doll, trapped behind the glass walls of expectation. Lonely. An object. Unworthy of anything greater than empty praise.

Steven likes the dark.

For as long as he can remember, the night has held within its mystery a pair of arms, solid and warm. A pair of lips, chapped but soft. A voice, deep and commanding but sweet against the shell of his ear. He closes his eyes, and he remembers downy feathers between his fingers. Hair tickling the inside of his thigh. Making love to the silver light of Artemis’ song.

Steven hates fire.

Being drenched in it. Feeling its blinding, smoldering heat across the expanse of his skin. Hearing his daughter shout, little voice lost to the smoke of the orange flames. What had she looked like, his beloved Hedone? She had been small and sweet, merely a babe, cradled in his arms, when the fires of Rome flared all around them. He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches out for what’s left of her in him. Her name leaves his lips.

Smoke fills his lungs. Choking him.

Late at night, when the dreams turn into nightmares, Steven tries very hard to breathe. To fight back what was suppose to be the impossible. He’d taken the ambrosia, let the wine of the gods touch his throat. Yet, _why_ –

Every one of them ends the same.

He takes a deep breath, calls out; “ _Eros_!”

An answering shout, weak but clear; “ _I’ll find you_!” and Steven doesn’t doubt it.

Every morning, he wakes with a promise.

* * *

“This is my friend.” Adam tells him before slipping away, as quiet and as invisible as the air.

Steven looks up to watch him go, and is met with the greenest eyes he has ever seen.

(Golden hair in golden candle light. A drop of hot wax. A shout. A look of alarm–

A soft gasp. From who, he isn’t sure. All he can see is a sea of green wide with awe and with love. A trembling hand coming to rest, on the curve of his cheek. Pale pink lips opening and closing as words try to wrest themselves away from a stubborn mouth.

Words: “ _I’ve never seen you in this light. You’re more beautiful than I remember._ ” A sob. “ _Oh, Psyche, what have you_ done?”)

“Hi,” a deep voice says, breathless. Sweet. “I’m Andrew.”

Steven takes his offered hand. Andrew’s fingers tremble in his grasp.

“I’m Steven,” he answers. 

(The sweet molasses passes his lips, the golden power radiating from ever part of his skin– life. death. time. space– he feels it course through his veins, spread across his chest–

“ _My love_ ,” his husband whispers into his ear, catching him as he pitches forward. “ _My life._ ”

“ _He is yours,_ ” a booming voice says, chuckling. “ _From here, to the end of time_.”

Eros laughs. And Psyche feels his mouth curve up into a smile.)

Andrew swallows, nervously. Excitedly. “Have we met before?”

Steven feels his mouth curve up into a smile. “Yes,” he laughs. “Yes, I think we have.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr ver.](http://en-sam-malas.tumblr.com/post/170574104010/okk-if-youre-still-taking-prompts-what-do-you)  
>  if you can guess who Adam is I will send you a hug in the mail


End file.
